Sticks and Stones
by CD57
Summary: Carter questions O'Neill's statement - season 1, just after Solitudes. Something O'Neill said to her while they were stuck in the icecave has her wondering.


**TITLE: Sticks and Stones**

**STATUS: Complete**

**CATEGORY: General  
**

**SPOILERS: Solitudes**

**SEASON / SEQUEL: one, some time after the rescue in Solitudes**

**RATING: G aka K  
**

**CONTENT WARNINGS: none**

**SUMMARY: Carter questions O'Neill's statement**

**DISCLAIMER: This story is written entirely for entertainment and is not intended as an infringement against the copy written material that belongs solely to Showtime, Sci-Fi Channel, MGM/UA, Gekko Films, et al. I'm only playing with their characters and will return them as soon as the story is finished. The following story is the property of the author and is not to be copied, or published without the express, written consent of the author.**

**AUTHOR'S NOTES: In Solitudes, Jack told Sam that his broken leg was the ninth. What did he mean exactly? This is what I think.**

**Many thanks to Yoof for all her help, as usual she made this a whole lot better. Thanks to Lynette as well, for another scan through. I have no idea if there was more to work on to this story but I can't muster up the courage for it, so I am posting it as it is. I hope you enjoy it.**

**If you have read this before: that's possible. It was written in 2004, posted on several sites, just not on yet. Still: I hope you enjoy!  
**

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Captain Samantha Carter walked through the corridors of the SGC on her way to the commissaryto grab some lunch.

She still had no idea what the piece of technology that SG-2 had brought back from Ardonna was, even though she had been working on it for hours.

She just had to figure it out, before General Hammond pulled her of the assignment. If there was something she hated it was going on a mission with an unfinished project remaining behind. While she was forced to do so regularly, she still found it hard to concentrate on the task at hand when the previous one wasn't completed.

Luckily she had at least another week to work on her current project. SG-1 was still on a stand-down after their latest adventure in Antarctica. Colonel O'Neill and she had been thrown out of the Stargate at great speed, leaving the Colonel badly injured. In the several days it had taken for them to get rescued, O'Neill had come really close to dying.

Sam shivered. It was her body's response to each reminder of the time they'd spent in that ice cavern. She'd been *so* cold. It had taken her a long time to feel warm again, despite the sweaters she had been wearing since that mission, the layers of blankets on her bed and the raised level of the thermostat in her house.

She had spent the first week at McMurdo in the infirmary, while Dr. Janet Fraiser and the medical staff fought to keep Colonel O'Neill alive. Emergency surgery had been needed to repair the internal damage, a tricky operation on a hypothermic close to dying from blood loss alone. It had been touch and go for a while, she had been told, since she was out of it herself for most of that first week.

Even after they had returned to the SGC Janet had kept her in the infirmary for another week. The colonel had been still in the ICU back then; it was during this time that they did the second operation to fix his leg.

She shivered again. This time it wasn't the memory of the cold, however. It was her CO's screams while she had been attempting to set his leg. It was a sound that still haunted her at night, when all was silent and she was supposed to be sleeping.

They had been extremely lucky. According to Dr. Fraiser, only a couple of more hours would have been fatal to the Colonel. Janet had pointed out that even Sam had been mere hours away from dying of hypothermia.

It was all behind her now. Colonel O'Neill was still recovering, but he was making good progress. His leg was in a cast, but he was out of the infirmary, undergoing physiotherapy to regain strength and he was eager to return to active duty. It would be at least another month for him though, Carter estimated and she doubted General Hammond would keep the rest of SG-1 on stand down that long.

Entering the commissary she found her friend Dr. Janet Fraiser already sitting at a small table positioned against the wall. Sam quickly walked by the serving line, took a tray and grabbed what she wanted. Moments later she carried her tray over to the same table.

"Hi," she greeted her friend as she pulled the chair opposite to the doctor back to sit down.

"Hi," Janet smiled. "How are you doing?"

"Fine," Carter acknowledged. "I am trying to get this piece of equipment to work before the General assigns me to another team on an off-world mission."

"Ahhh," Fraiser responded, giving a slight nod. "The thing that Major Ferretti and his team brought back..... It's a real challenge, isn't it?"

"Yes, it is," the blonde woman said, unable to hide her frustration. "I'm not getting anywhere. It has got to have a purpose. I just can't find what it is, let alone its function."

"You'll figure this out," the doctor said confidently. "Just make sure you get enough rest, please?"

Throwing an annoyed glance over the table, Sam played with the food using her fork. "Yeah, yeah. I know. Don't worry." She placed the fork back on the tray this time looking up questioningly. "You know, I keep on wondering..."

"What?"

"I... it's just, I can't figure this out," Carter hesitated. "It's something Colonel O'Neill said to me while we were stuck in that crevasse."

"What?" Janet repeated curiously. "What do you mean?"

"Well... When I was trying to set his leg..." she shivered momentarily at the memory, "I was trying to distract him... or me, or both of us," she shrugged at that, "so I was asking him some questions."

Fraiser nodded slowly, knowing how difficult that moment must have been for her friend. "That's good."

Distractedly, Sam briefly looked away. "Yeah, well."

"And?"

"And I asked him if this was his first broken bone."

"So what did he say?"

"He seemed to think about it for a second, which is hard enough as it is while someone is trying to straighten out your broken leg." Carter's eyes darkened for a moment but then she glanced at the doctor as she revealed what had been troubling her. "He said it was his ninth, if you counted skull fractures."

Janet frowned.

"I just don't understand, Janet," Carter said, eyeing her colleague carefully as if trying to find an answer. "I mean, ... how is that possible?"

"He's done some dangerous things, apparently," Janet slowly explained, wondering what the real problem was.

"Exactly," Sam agreed. "And just being thrown out of the gate left him with a broken leg and five broken ribs alone. I know the Colonel hasn't revealed much about his past and we both know lots of it is classified... I just don't see how he could get away with _only_ nine broken bones..."

Understanding now what the Captain was implying, Fraiser nodded. "Ah. You mean you think he should have had more than that."

"Well, you've said yourself that a couple of those ribs required special attention due to previous breaks..." Again, the blond Captain hesitated. "And I know his left wrist has been broken, he told me that once."

"So..."

"So... how many do you know of?" Sam wanted to know.

Fraiser sighed. "You know I can't tell you..."

"I know that," Carter muttered. "But at least you could tell me if you know it's been nine, or more?"

Janet rolled her eyes, then focused her attention on the wall.

Triumphantly, Carter gestured with her hands. "See! I knew it!"

Shrugging, Fraiser looked at her friend. "But what's the _point_?"

"The point is, that I can't get why he said nine. Why not ten, or fourteen? Or the actual truth?"

"He _was_ in a lot of pain at the time," the doctor reasoned.

"I know. But he was really considering his answer, I'm sure of that. Why nine?"

"I don't know," Janet said and nodded in the direction of the entrance. "Why don't you just ask him?"

"Ask him what?" Colonel O'Neill's voice came from close behind her, the rubber tipped crutches making little suction sounds against the commissary floor as he approached.

Carter quickly looked over her right shoulder and jumped up. "Sir."

O'Neill moved closer, the way he handled the crutches revealing he had considerable prior experience using them. He threw a faint smile at the doc, who'd pulled the remaining chair partially towards her so he could sit down without having to put his leg under the table. Moving one crutch over to the other hand the Colonel held them both with his left, while with his right hand he leaned forward on the table for support until he was seated, his injured leg outstretched in front of him. Next, he hung the crutches over the arm rest of his chair and then he looked up to meet his 2IC's gaze. "At ease, Captain. Something on your mind?"

Carter slowly sat down, doubting if she would bring her question up. She tried to think of a diversion, and failed. Unable to escape, she continued. "I can't stop thinking about something you said, back in Antarctica, Sir."

"It _was_ my side-arm, Carter," O'Neill responded rather quickly.

Sam couldn't hold back the chuckle that escaped her throat and forced herself not to look at the now surprised doctor across the table. "Not that, Sir. I meant when you said that this," she gestured at his out-stretched leg, "is your ninth broken bone."

The Colonel shrugged and looked puzzled. "And? So? Therefore?"

"I just can't believe this is only your ninth."

"_Only_ my ninth? For crying out loud, Carter! Don't you think that's enough?"

The Captain's face turned a light shade of red as she hastened to respond. "No, Sir. I mean... yes, Sir. But I was thinking that with your background it does seem reasonable that it would be more than that..."

O'Neill's eyes darkened and he lowered his gaze for a moment. Then, he looked back up. "Okay, Captain? What's your point?"

Carter suddenly wished she'd never brought the subject up, but there was no turning back now. "It just made me wonder why you said nine, Sir. You seemed to consider your answer, so it looked as if you were actually counting. Why did you say nine, and not seven, or twelve?"

Annoyed, the Colonel rolled his eyes. He raised one hand, his thumb up, while the other one pointed at his healthy leg. "Broke that one. Broke both arms... that's three." He held up three fingers now. "Ribs were busted before, that makes four. Then really did it with the shoulder," one hand subconsciously rubbing the left shoulder blade, the other hand now showing five fingers.

The hand moved from the shoulder to the other side, briefly touching his collar bone. "Snapped the collar bone which makes six. The nose has had it as well, although it still looks pretty damn good." Rubbing over the bridge of his nose, O'Neill did not respond to the soft giggling coming from Janet Fraiser beside him.

"That would be seven, the skull fracture numbers eight and this one," he tapped on the cast covering his right leg, "is nine. Satisfied now?"

"Well, Sir," Carter objected, thinking she'd come this far so she better finish it. She pointed at his arm. "Which bone did you break in that arm, sir?"

In surprise, O'Neill glanced at the limb resting on the arm rest. "Err.. the upper arm, the first time during a bad fall playing ice hockey when I was a teenager. Then the forearm and the wrist."

"And the other arm?" Sam pushed on.

"Some fingers, the elbow and upper arm," the Colonel summed up without thinking, then, irritated, he looked up to meet the Captain's gaze. "What, you're keeping score now?"

"_That's_ what I don't understand," Carter said, emphasizing her statement with a wild gesture of her hands. "You've had at least eight broken bones in your arms alone... And still you only said nine."

With wide eyes, Colonel O'Neill slowly looked from Carter to Fraiser and back to the Captain, then lifted a hand to briefly rub his forehead. "Carter," he said after a deep sigh. "It is _your_ job to be exact. It is _your_ job to look for details, to perform precise measurements, to run simulations and drown yourself in calculations. I summarize. I look for relevances. I concentrate on what's necessary knowledge to make or carry out the decisions. _That's _my job. There's nothing else to it."

Baffled, Carter stared at her CO as she absorbed what he had explained. Shifting her gaze to the doctor, she noticed Janet throwing her a faint smile.

Colonel O'Neill in the meantime had gathered his crutches in one hand. With his other hand, he pushed himself up to a standing position. "Well, ladies. If that was all...," he looked at Carter, "you can go back to your precise, exact scientific research on that .... thing... that Lou found." Next, he looked at Fraiser. "And you can go back and run all the tests you want on the poor suckers lying in the infirmary..."

Taking a crutch in each hand, the Colonel gave a slight nod before starting to hobble toward the door. "Meanwhile I'll be considering what's necessary knowledge for the good old General to let me return to active duty."

Carter chuckled.

"Oh, no you don't!" Janet Fraiser unnecessary called out, barely able to stop from jumping up. "Colonel!"

O'Neill stopped momentarily, looked over his shoulder and threw a boyish grin in the doctor's direction. "It was worth a try!"

**THE END**


End file.
